Kanar & Roses: A DS9 Love Story
by rekelen2309
Summary: A supplemental/alternate DS9 story line featuring Damar, a civilian human female doctor, and their budding romance. (In progress and currently episodic, with large time gaps between chapters. Working to fill in the blanks!)
1. Prologue: What We Cannot Leave Behind

The treaty renegotiations had been deliberately timed to coincide with the Peldor (Gratitude) Festival, one of Bajor's most important holidays. Celebrations would begin tomorrow. He felt both nostalgia and angst while observing the week-long preparations going on around him. He arrived on DS9 two weeks ago, part of the Cardassian delegation, and would remain on the station for the duration of the treaty talks, which were expected to take six months or more.

This was the first time he had been around Bajorans since the occupation ended. He had never been a religious man, nor was he superstitious, but he recognized the role of culture and ritual in providing people with comfort, strength, and direction, especially in times of need. These were insights he'd gained during his assignment seven years ago at the Bjoran refugee camp on Taleth'kar. It was there that he first witnessed aspects of the Peldor Festival, albeit a much more scaled-down (and clandestine) version compared to the grandeur he was witnessing now on DS9. His patrol faction had stumbled upon a ceremony in progress one night seven years ago. The patrol had broken up the group of revellers - He had assisted in this process, but half-heartedly. Later, while off-duty, he snuck out of the Cardassian barracks and found the ceremony site again. The Bajorans had regrouped, as he had predicted. Settling in a protected spot amidst a rock outcrop on the hill, he sat secretly observing from a distance.

They were so peaceful, so... light. Despite their circumstances. It had felt unfathomable to him, he recalled. But perhaps - he remembered thinking - it was the simple action of externalizing one's problems, then having them symbolically disappear. Perhaps the larger circumstances didn't matter... or, perhaps they did, even more so during the occupation. Perhaps those rituals served as small assertions of individual autonomy that became a critical act of collective resistance that shored up the people's resilience, resolve and endurance... and reconstituted their identity in the face of annihilation.

But what did it mean here, now, on DS9? Rebirth? Reconciliation? Healing?

Seven years ago, he fought the urge to venture down and join them, more out of curiosity than any other motivation. His memory took him back to the moment when the Cardassian patrol had suddenly emerged from the forest adjacent to the ceremony site and opened fire on the Bajorans. He had frozen in horror at first. Then one of the Cardassians looked in his direction, maybe noticing... something. Shaken to by this, he had scrambled away around the hill, careful to stay concealed by the natural landscape along the way. Not looking back, and pretending not to hear.

He shook his head now to clear his mind, then turned into Quark's, hoping the Ferengi had finally received the shipment of kanar he had been promising.

He was anxious for tomorrow, for the opportunity to burn his renewal scroll there on DS9... Open to whatever relief and redemption it might bring him.


	2. New Horizons

Her name was Emmeline. Dr. Emmeline Maturin. "M" for short. She had arrived on the station from Earth six weeks ago to oversee the expansion of the infirmary to become a full service hospital combining Star Fleet and civilian care. Though originally put out by this, it didn't take long for that insipid Dr. Bashir to start mooning after her… It was disgusting.

Yes, she was one of the more attractive human females he'd seen during his stay on DS9 for the treaty renegotiations. Even better, she was one of the most intelligent people he'd ever met, and made even the most boring committee tête-à-têtes worthwhile. An adept and strategic thinker, self-possessed and strong willed. With only four words she had excruciatingly shut him down in that first meeting six weeks ago when he had questioned Starfleet's intentions regarding the civilian hospital.

She was magnificent.

Watching her now from his seat at the bar, he admired her ability to concentrate despite the usual cacophony of Quark's. He was a bookworm himself, and pondered whether this shared interest might serve as an icebreaker. No one else on DS9, or anywhere he'd been lately, made him consider making the effort.

He had separated from his wife some time ago, and after waiting the mandatory three years their divorce was finally formalized under Cardassian law last year. Through all those years he had remained a "family man", hoping deep down for reconciliation, especially because divorce would mean he had failed. But he HAD failed, long before his wife had left him. And though he no longer grieved for his lost marriage, nor missed his ex-wife, he was reticent about pursuing something new and risking another failure.

"Not you, too," the bartender jibed, pouring him another glass of kanar.

"Just what is it you're getting at, Ferengi?" Damar responded dully, turning back to the bar without looking at Quark.

"That you and every other male in here hasn't taken their eyes off Dr. Maturin since she got here tonight, including me!" Quark retorted. "If I thought any one of us had a chance with her, I'd start up a pool!"

Damar shot back the kanar, stood up and left the bar, taking care not to look at her on his way out.

* * *

Later that night their paths crossed briefly on the promenade; She was heading back to the hospital, he was responding to a disturbance involving two of his subordinates.

"Good evening, doctor," he said formally, nodding the way humans do.

"Good evening," she said, polite but easy. He was disappointed she had not said his name. He took it for a strategic jab on her part - the thought made his heart race even faster. His palms were sweaty, unusual for a Cardassian, especially in DS9's too-cool environment.

Her commanding presence, fierce blue eyes, and sardonic smile... Formidable. And not the least bit undone by the youthful spray of - what did humans call them? freckles? - across her nose and cheeks. HE was undone by them, though. He had noticed the handful of darker ones during that first committee meeting when she'd shut him down. Passing closer to her now he noticed an entire constellation, like faint stars that only appear when you've been staring at the night sky for sometime without looking away. He was unable to look away now, and wished he were close enough to count them all.

She held his gaze for a drawn out moment, then dismissed him with a slow blink, turning away and heading in the opposite direction.

He watched until the hospital door closed behind her, then stood staring at the door. Then turned and continued along the promenade.


	3. The SMell of Kanar-Vomit in the Morning

Three days ago, a commercial freighter had picked up a distress call while passing through the Lintara system, far inside Cardassian territory. Unable to locate any Star Fleet ships in the vicinity, and bound by Federation law, the freighter captain sent a team down to the planet's surface to investigate. What they discovered was a community of escaped Bajoran refugees, unaware that the occupation had ended. After notifying Star Fleet of this discovery, the freighter made its way to DS9, following Star Fleet orders. Due to a logistical error, the freighter docked beside a Cardassian ship, which meant the Bjorans were disembarking in the same cargo bay where the Cardassian military was unloading supplies. Sisko assigned two additional security details to help keep the peace, and Dukat sent Damar with a small contingent to keep the Cardassian workers in line. Any outbreak of violence would undermine the treaty renegotiations, which had reached a critical juncture.

A shipping container toppled over, and Damar stopped pacing to help right it and replace the contents that had spilled out. He finished this task and turned to continue his detail around the cargo bay. That's when he saw her. She stood like a stature across the bay, staring at him, with her Bajoran brethren stepping around her on their way out. Damar stopped in his tracks. He did not recognise her at first, but then he picked up some familiarity, he was not sure what exactly. She was older - of course she was, it had been almost eight years. She had been a child then, but not so little that this young woman couldn't be her. Unsettled by her unrelenting stare, and his memory pulling him back to a time he did not wish to revisit, Damar transferred his orders to one of his men, then ducked out of the bay and headed straight for Quark's.

* * *

"How MUCH kanar has he had?" Garak asked the bartender.

"One bottle…. Maybe two? I don't know, I wasn't keeping tabs," Quark said, deflecting.

"Well, THAT just isn't true, Mr. Quark. Keeping tabs is your BUSINESS!" Garak quipped.

"Ok, ok! Three bottles!" Quark came clean. "How was I supposed to know this would happen? I've never seen a Cardassian drink that much!"

"Let's save THAT discussion for another time, shall we?" Garak shot back. "Here, you take that arm. Help me get him to the hospital. I, for one, HAVE seen Cardassians drink this much before, and I can tell you, THREE bottles of kanar is one more than it takes anyone to reach toxicity!"

M rushed out when she saw Quark and Garak dragging Damar down the alcove towards the hospital.

"What happened?"

"Kanar… and a GREEDY bartender!" Garak exclaimed. "He's had FAR too much! You'll have to pump his stomach. And you'd better hurry."

She scanned Damar and confirmed Garak's diagnosis. "Garak, help me get him up here," she instructed once they'd reached a treatment room. Together they hoisted Damar onto the bed. "Help me get his uniform off - How do these work?"

With the kind of ease that suggested long experience, Garak had Damar's upper body plates off before M had time to finish preparing the pump.

"His tunic - Can he keep it on?" Garak asked.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you Garak. I can manage on my own now," she said.

Garak immediately left, asking M to let him know how things turn out. M readied the stomach pump, but first she gave him a shot of vitamin B - Getting close enough to administer the dose, she smelled the leather and metal of his uniform still lingering on him, mixed with stale sweat that was laced with evaporating alcohol. It was almost pleasant. Cardassians generally smell of a spicy sweetness; this is due to their increased metabolism in response to DS9's climate being significantly cooler than terrestrial temperatures on Cardassia. M got sidetracked for a moment wondering what they smell like in the heat of Cardassia - Probably more pervasively of leather, especially since it was the fashion even of those males not serving in the military. M liked the scent of leather.

Kanar-vomit, on the other hand, was not so nice. Damar regained consciousness momentarily while M was starting to insert the pump's tube. He doubled over and was sick, though no enough that M could forego pumping his stomach. She struggled to restrain him. Had he been less intoxicated, he could have easily overpowered her, but in his state he was easy to subdue. He lost consciousness again, and she was able to finish the insertion.

She started a saline IV on Damar, and when was certain all the contents of his stomach had been expelled, she retracted the pump, assessed his vitals, administered more vitamin B, then let him sleep it off.

* * *

Damar stirred. M looked up from the pad she was working on, stood up from the bedside chair and leaned over him. Eyes: clear… Pupils: tracking, not dilated… Breathing: regular… Pulse: regular… Colour - grey, but not as pale as before. He's fine, but likely has a massive headache.

"No-no," she said, placing a hand on Damar's chest, gently restraining him as he struggled to sit up. "Shhhh... You should stay down.

A wave of dizziness overcame him. He stopped struggling and slumped back down onto the pillow. "Ah-huh," he concurred.

M reached into her pocket and pulled out a hypo. "Acetaminophen," she told him as she administered a dose to his neck. "It should help your head."

"Thank you," he said shakily. He reached, finding her hand and squeezing it. "Doctor - I'm sorry."

She smiled down at him and patted his arm. "For what? I'm a doctor; you needed care."

He had no response ready. Mostly he felt embarrassed in front of the woman he was interested in and wanted to impress.

"So... what was last night about?" She settled down on the chair next to the bed. "That much alcohol could have killed you."

The inquiry caught him off guard. Turning his head away from her, he started, "There was someone from... I can't -" he broke off. He had become agitated and was breathing heavily. He found the strength to sit up.

M got up and closed the door for privacy. She sat next to him, silent, until he was ready.

"I killed a family of Bajoran refugees. Years ago. I was stationed on Taleth'kar. There was an uprising. We responded with unnecessary force." He said matter-of-factly, but M felt the distress buried under his words. "I don't know if I actually killed any of them. We were all there, firing… I was firing. I must have -. One of the children - a girl – she survived. She just arrived here on the refugee ship. She recognized me, the other day. I -" He was struggling.

She stood and put a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head, and quiet tears started. She had never seen a Cardassian cry.

"How do you apologize for that? How do you make amends? It was wrong, all of it! The whole damned occupation. I knew it was wrong. And I did nothing!"

"You learned, Damar," she said calmly after a moment of silent reflection. "And I think you've been trying to make amends, now that you're in a position to do something. I've been in that committee room with you these past two months," she said as he scoffed.

"You don't need to be forgiven," she continued, crouching down in front of him, trying to look him in the face. "Of course doing something back then would have been the right thing to do. But in those circumstances, with what was at stake for you, very few people would have taken the risk. But you carry those experiences with you. And now, Damar, you are doing something, and that's really all you can do."

Her words condemned him and released him, and both felt equally as good. For the next hour, Damar laid his full confession on M, desperate for more judgement, steeling himself for whatever was to come. When he was finished, he looked her in the eye, ready. She smiled, took his hand, leaned over and gently kissed his forehead. "It's ok. You're ok," she said comfortingly.

Overcome with emotion, he crumbled, almost falling off the bed. She caught him and held him while he wept.

"You're ok, Damar," she reassured him again, patting the back of his head.

Afterwards, he slept for nine hours straight, spent from emotion and finally able to be at peace. When he woke he was alone in the room, but the door was ajar. It wasn't long before M noticed he was awake. She came in carrying a handful of books.

"I'd like to keep you here overnight for observation," she said, looking at his chart. "Your blood pressure is taking it's time to normalize." She looked up and handed him the books. "I thought you might like something to help pass the time. Do you read my language?"

"A little. I'll try. Thank you."

* * *

The wrapped and intricately decorated little box was waiting on M's desk when she arrived at the hospital the next evening for her shift.

"What's this?" she absentmindedly asked her assistant, who had already left the room.

This kind of flare was a Garak hallmark, and an indicator that the package contained something fragile. She opened it with great care, slipping the pale blue parchment note out from where it had been tucked between the ribbon and the box.

A small bottle of perfume. From Cardassia. She guessed immediately who the sender was, but unfolded the note for confirmation.

"Dear Doctor, thank you for your kindness and your discretion." It was written by hand, in English. He had signed with just his first name: Corat (which she recognized only because she'd had to review his medical file when he was brought in).

The bottle was beautiful copper and indigo blown glass, delicate like a bird. M gently peeled off its wax seal and plucked out the stopper.

Pumpkin pie, and clover flowers... Bleached linen drying in the sun... And, faintly, kanar, which immediately evoked the association with vomit. BUT, being a doctor, she got passed unpleasant smells quickly, and the association in her brain had already switched thanks to the perfume's meaningfulness as a gift.

"Maybe that's why he sent it. As much an apology as it is a thank you!" she mused. She did not really believe that.

She set the bottle down on her desk, then softly breathed in the scent of the note, then tapped it gently against her lips. Dry wood… Chalky ink… And, faintly, the leather of Damar's uniform.


	4. Defending the Indefensible

"O'Brien's been hit," they heard Dax over the comm, her voice was high-pitched and clipped.

Oberon had become a Jem H'dar stronghold, and was recently discovered by Star Fleet intelligence. Sisko had shared this information with the treaty delegates as a demonstration of good faith, and the decision was made collectively to respond with force.

The Defiant was tucked away behind one of Oberon's moons, with an away team installed on the planet's surface. It was a dangerous sabotage mission, casualties were expected, which is why M had been brought along (Bashir had an experiment underway on DS9 that he could not leave at the time). M had remained on the Defiant, but was now preparing to beam down.

"With what?" she asked over the comm, grabbing her medical kit.

"I'm not sure. Some kind of laser, from a security port on the side of the building."

"Is he breathing?"

"Yes."

"Conscious?"

"No."

"What does the wound look like?"

"Like a phaser blast, but much smaller. And it goes all the way through."

"Where?"

"His chest. Left side… HIS left."

M hesitated, thinking, then grabbed a couple of pieces of medical equipment that were rarely used. "I'm on my way."

Nog beamed her directly from the bridge to the away team's location, into a hail of phaser fire. A moment after re-materializing, Dax tackled her, "Stay down! He's over here."

M followed, crawling behind some rocks and bushes.

O'Brien's lips were blue. M put her ear against his chest. Lungs were clear. Heartbeat, irregular. She felt for his pulse - Erratic. The laser had sliced an artery, that was the only damage she saw and it was largely superficial other than causing the issues with his heart. She quickly sutured the artery, then pulled the a cardiac stimulator out of her pack and positioned it on O'Brien's chest. After two charge cycles, his heartbeat stabilized enough for him to be moved as far as the shuttle. Using the transporter to get him back to the Defiant was out of the question.

Worf and Dax wrangled the rest of the away team, and the shuttle took off under heavy fire. No one else was seriously wounded, and O'Brien was fine for the moment with the temporary help that the cardiac stimulator was able to deliver.

Back on the Defiant, M worked fast to transfer O'Brien to the mobile couch and gantry, a longer-term solution that should keep him alive until they reached DS9 and the hospital's more sophisticated equipment.

An hour after leaving Oberon's system they were hit by Jem H'dar fire. It was a lone attacker and the Defiant had no trouble eliminate the ship. However, some of the Defiant's systems sustained damage in the attack, including the gantry which succumbed to an electrical surge and caused additional injury to O'Brien. M tried desperately to replace the gantry with the cardiac stimulator, but it wasn't made to deal with the type of new damage O'Brien's heart had suffered.

"How long 'til we reach DS9?" she barked.

"Forty minutes," Nog replied, aware of what was happening in the medical bay thanks to a live feed. "I'll keep her as fast and steady as I can.

She considered the options: If they called for a ship from DS9 to meet them part way, it would take longer than 40 minutes to transfer it's gantry to the Defiant. They couldn't beam O'Brien over to the other ship, nor would a manual transfer work without putting him at risk due to pressure fluctuations in the ships' airlocks.

No. M had no other option: She must do open-heart massage. Forty minutes. "I can do 40 minutes," she thought to herself. "I hope O'Brien can."

"Contact Sisko, let him know what's going on and ask him to arrange priority docking. And tell Bashir to have the surgery ready."

Nog relayed the message.

M called Dax in to administer and monitor O'Brien's oxygen. M found her scalpel, located the right plane on O'Brien's chest, and cut him open. Within less than a minute, she was sitting astride him, supporting herself with her left hand planted on the ground beside his shoulder, and her right hand inside the incision rhythmically squeezing and releasing his heart.

Nog remained true to his word: He kept Defiant steady for the 40 minutes it took to reach DS9. They docked at the bay closest to the hospital. The treaty talks were recessed while Sisko and Kira tended to this O'Brien crisis. All the dignitaries were there outside the docking bay, craning to see the action - (It was the most exciting thing that had happened on the station for them in weeks). Dax and Worf wheeled the mobile couch off the Defiant, with M still astride O'Brien, still manually pumping his heart. There was a set of stairs that the couch needed to be carried own - A number of the delegates (those with military credentials) rushed in to help.

"Damar, can you keep me steady," M reached out to him as the group prepared to lift the couch.

He grabbed her arm and placed a firm hand on her waist as they descended, then kept a tight grasp on her while jogging alongside as they wheeled the couch to the surgery.

Bashir maneuvered the hospital gantry around to the mobile couch and over O'Brien.

"You ready?" Bashir asked M.

"Yes. You do the count," she instructed

"On three. One, two, three."

M released her grip on O'Brien's heart as Bashir powered on the gantry's pump. She remained astride O'Brien for a moment, holding her breath along with everyone else who had followed them into the surgery theatre, awaiting the heart monitor blip. When it came, the room exhaled in unison.

"Help me down," she said, again reaching for Damar, though Worf was closer and had already made a move to help her. "I can't straighten my legs in this position, my knees are too stiff. Just... tip me towards you then lift me off." And he did.

Bashir stabilized O'Brien and closed the incision. Then shooed the audience out into the hospital's great room.

"That was fine work, Doctor," he said. "You are one cool cucumber."

M deflected the compliment with a nod, dutifully responding to a colleague. But her attention remained on O'Brien. In her physical state at that moment, she would not have been much good to Bashir if he needed her assistance. But she could interpret the monitor and scan readings, and advise, if needed. She stayed until she was certain O'Brien was out of the woods.

Then she left and headed into the surgical suite next door to wash up, passing through the packed great room on the way. Despite her relief, she was wound tight with adrenaline. She needed to be somewhere quiet and alone for a while to come down - Needing to wash O'Brien's blood off gave her an excuse for being in the quiet theatre. She opted for the tap and sink, rather than the sonic washing station - The warm water felt good on her cramping hand and aching arms.

Damar came in the room behind her. "Are you alright?" he asked gently.

She turned to him as she was drying her arms. She succumbed to a burst of quiet laughter. "Sorry. I'm not really laughing. I do this when I'm anxious." Her laughter quickly dissipated.

She was squeezing her hand, trying to loosen the muscles and stop the cramping. Damar came over and took over the massage.

"It must hurt." His hands were strong. The massage hurt, but felt amazing. He continued up her arm.

"Have you ever done that before?"

"Once or twice. I was a country doctor for a time after I left Star Fleet. I didn't always have the equipment I needed at my fingertips exactly when I needed it. But I had thousands of years of medical knowledge to draw on," she explained. "It's an old technique, based on the same principles and processes as the stimulator and gantry pump. It's not best practice today, but it was at one time. And it still works."

He'd managed to relieve the knot behind her elbow. She reached up and patted her shoulder. He grinned and acquiesced, moving behind her to work out the tension in her shoulders and neck, then started on her back. More intense pain, but it felt incredible.

Kira found them like this. She was taken aback upon entering the room, but was not entirely shocked. She had noticed M choosing Damar over Worf earlier, and there had been a few other unsettling things that she had observed between the two of them over the past couple of months.

Damar broke off the massage, patted M heavily on the shoulder, smiled, and with an air of finality asked "Better, Doctor?" He moved away as she responded yes, then exited the room.

"How's O'Brien?" M asked Kira.

"Bashir is certain he'll pull through." Kira responded blandly.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. She felt Kira's eyes on her, but did not look up.

"What are you doing?"

"What?" But M knew exactly what Kira was asking.

"That Cardassian THUG. WHAT are you doing... with HIM?"

M hesitated, weighing both her words and her countenance carefully. "He's not what think." Bad response, she admonished herself.

"Oh, right! He's 'different', is that it? He's a 'good person'. A benevolent Cardassian - I can barely say those two words in the same sentence, even in jest!"

"Nerys -"

"What are you doing, M?" Kira asked again, though this time M heard the veiled accusation it contained: 'How could you do this to me and my people, M?'

She was hoping for some sort of interruption so she could avoid responding. But she knew she couldn't.

"I'm sorry. I know what they are as a people, and what they did to your people." She started. She willed herself not to say 'but'. "But..." dammit! "I've gotten to know him. Not intentionally. He's just... been around. It's just like with Garak, he's not what you might presume at first."

Kira turned away, shaking her head in disgust and disbelief.

"We've talked about the occupation. Nerys, he disagreed with it. He feels a great deal of remorse. He still has trouble sleeping."

"Does he? And how would you know that, Doctor? Have you slept with him?"

"I haven't slept with him -"

"Not yet," Kira huffed.

M was stunned. "He's... he's a patient," she fudged.

"He's more than a patient to you, M," Kira scoffed, raising her brows.

M adamantly shook her head no, pressing her lips together and exhaling through her nose.

"You've sat across from him during these treaty talks. You know he's been the moderate on the Cardassian delegation. Progressive, even. Have you not seen it?" M asked.

Kira snorted, dismissing this challenge, and then wheeled on M.

"He was in the military during the occupation. He was a part of it! No matter WHAT Damar may be, he's still implicated. And if he disagreed with the occupation, and feels remorse now, so much the worse! That makes him even MORE guilty and even LESS redeemable. HE should have followed his conscience back then and tried to HELP us! Just like..." she truncated her thought.

"No, he wasn't a hero by any means. That's not what I'm saying, and that's not what he pretends to be, not like Dukat. He did what he had the capacity to do at the time. Anything more and he would have been killed by his own people."

"Then I might have respected him." Kira said derisively.

"Nerys, without any influence or guidance, he saw the occupation for what it was, and resisted becoming what they tried to shape him into. Does that say nothing about what he is? He was a child through most of it. He's a man, now. He's speaking and acting now. That's the man he's chosen to be. Is that nothing?"

"It's not enough."

"No room for mitigating facts?" M asked, exasperated.

"He's CARDASSIAN. That's the only FACT that matters." Kira locked eyes with M. Another uncomfortable silence between them.

"If you ever get tired or 'majoring' here, Major, I think you would find a very comfortable seat on a Cardassian court bench." M saw in Kira's eyes both the pain and fury this evoked.

M was glad when Odo tentatively poked his head into the room. "The talks are resuming. Sisko would like you both there."

Kira stormed out.

M gave her a head start, then followed, also stormy... Partly because she was uncomfortable being put in the position of defending a Cardassian to a Bjoran... Partly because she had been made to feel guilty about defending someone she knew to be a good person… And partly because Kira was right about one thing: M did feel some affection for that Cardassian thug, in spite of herself.


	5. Cheeseburger, Fries, & a Cherry Coke

It had been three months since the Cardassians had retaken DS9 with the help of their Dominion allies. M had made the hard choice to stay, anticipating the sub-par care the civilians remaining on the station, especially Bijorans, may suffer if the Cardassians took over hospital operations.

During this time, M had been colluding with a handful of other non-Dominion retainers - Major Kira, Odo, Rom and Quark among them - in discreet acts of sabotage, and information brokering to get intelligence to Star Fleet. Her skill in these tasks surprised her. But this was not the reason Gul Dukat handed down the sentence that severely restricted her movements on the station. She was virtually a prisoner, allowed travel only between her quarters and the hospital each day, at all times accompanied by a Cardassian military escort. After six weeks, it was starting to wear her down.

Six weeks ago Star Fleet had ambushed a Cardassian reconnaissance ship near the Pandoran Nebula. A couple of Bjoran techs had accompanied the Cardassians on the mission, and one was among those injured in the attack. Upon the crew's return to DS9, M triaged the Bjoran for immediate surgery (he had fatal wounds), leaving the handful of superficially wounded Cardassians to wait. Word about this quickly reached Dukat. He showed up at the hospital blustering, and ordered her to tend to his men first. M refused. She was dragged from the surgery. The Bjoran died. She told Dukat off. Dukat imposed her sentence, labelling her a "collaborator" who could not be trusted. (If he'd only known about her other activities...)

The biggest impact was not being able to go to the cargo stores to restock her medical supplies. The hospital had already run out of some items she used daily, and while M was able to improvise for most of these or use the replicator, there were some critical medications the replicator could not reproduce and her supply of these was getting dangerously low. She pleaded with her escorts, but they would not take her to cargo; Nor would they convey her requests to their superiors. And they wouldn't let her speak with anyone during their daily marches between her quarters and the hospital. M had tried to get word to Kira and Odo with the help of a civilian patient, but nothing came of it, so she assumed the message hadn't gotten through. Neither Kira nor Odo would have failed her for something like this; They would have found a way. Perhaps the patient lost his nerve before delivering the message.

The situation was getting desperate. She had to do something. If the hospital served more Cardassians, no doubt her requests would be taken seriously. Maybe there was something she could... No. Out of the question. Never. Not even to the enemy.

She had seen Damar amble past on the promenade around 17:00 hours yesterday and the day before. Duty patrol, M reasoned, which would likely continue until the end of the week at least. If she could somehow get his attention, perhaps he would listen. She recalled how during the treaty renegotiations earlier that year Damar had at times been reasonable and almost empathetic. And six weeks ago, he had tried to intervene with Dukat - (M wondered if Damar had suffered any consequences for that.) He was a different man than Dukat, that was clear. But just how different?

"I guess I'm about to find out," she muttered to herself.

Ok, so that was the plan. But how to get Damar's attention? The hospital door was 20 feet off the promenade, tucked neatly away in an alcove. Even if M stood at the door jumping and waving like a wild thing, Damar would never see her unless he had a reason to look that way. And her escorts kept the hospital doors shut and locked at all times, so she couldn't just call out to him.

It would have to be something that would make some noise. Something that would get those doors opened, and hopefully get her outside the hospital. Something that would motivate her escorts leave their posts - That, Damar would surely notice, and hopefully come closer to investigate. As long as he came within earshot of M, even just a few words might do the trick.

* * *

It was a few minutes before 17:00 hours. It was time. M lit the Bunsen burner and knocked it off the table into the bin of bed sheets she had doused with ethyl alcohol.

"Oops!" she smiled to herself.

The initial burst of flames shot much higher than she had anticipated. M quickly stepped back, and was relieved when the fire settled into the controlled burn she had planned for. The fire alarm and suppression system hadn't kicked in. Good, she had disconnected the correct wires.

Thick smoke was building in the enclosed space of the hospital foyer. Her escorts standing just outside the doors hadn't noticed yet. Idiots.

M peered out, looking past them, watching for Damar out on the promenade. It was time, he should be passing by any moment now.

It was getting hot and hard to breathe. The next step in her plan would have to happen soon.

M flew into action the moment the Cardassian patrol came into view. She was halfway to the electrical service panel when she realized the one she could see wasn't Damar. Oh, well. At this point, whomever it was would have to do. They would have to report the incident to Damar, right? So, maybe he would come to her to follow-up?

Opening the service panel, M quickly reconnected the wires. The alarm instantly wailed to a bone-vibrating pitch, and water sprayed from the ceiling, covering everything, including her. Soaked, she raced to the door and banged with all her strength, engulfed in smoke and steam.

The doors jerked opened. M tumbled out, followed by the billowing smoke. The shock of the cool air that met her made her realize the incident she created inside may have been more precarious than anticipated.

Before the smoke had cleared in the alcove, M felt a pair of strong hands lifting her off the floor, one under her arm, the other around her waist. She was coughing uncontrollably, and would have collapsed back to the floor had it not been for this support.

"Doctor! Doctor, are you all right? Are you hurt?" a familiar voice asked with an alarmed clip.

M looked up and was relived to see it was Damar holding her. He had been out there with the patrol after all. She shook her head 'Yes', continuing to cough. His face felt a little too close to hers, but that feeling changed as he caught her gaze and held it. Worried eyes. Intense blue. M hadn't noticed his eyes before. Wow, the lack of oxygen must really be affecting her, she thought to herself.

"What happened?" he asked.

M shook her head from side-to-side and forced a harder cough so she could avoid speaking.

Damar ordered his men to clean up the mess inside. He summoned Kira from ops, and waited with M outside the hospital in the alcove. Kira was duly stunned when she arrived, unable to parse exactly what had happened; However, one brief but intense glance from M spoke volumes. Kira chose her words carefully.

"Was anyone else hurt in the accident?" Kira asked.

"No, no one else was inside," Damar didn't look at Kira.

Good, Kira thought to herself. No witnesses.

"The Doctor insists she isn't hurt." Damar nudged M towards Kira. "Major, take her to her quarters, stay with her until I get there. See that she puts on dry clothes. Contact me immediately if her coughing gets worse."

Damar spun around and headed into the hospital to join his men.

Kira stared M in the eye, then jerked her arm and dragged her away. "Stupid!" the Major admonished.

Just as they reached the promenade they heard one of the Cardassians say, "Sir, I think we found the source." Glancing back, they saw Damar raise some of the bed sheets to his nose.

The two women slipped into the crowd on the promenade and picked up their pace.

* * *

They sat across from each other in M's quarters, tense but quiet, having exhausted discussion about the incident. A shared sense of unease, for mutual and individual reasons. M was dry and her coughing had ceased.

The door chimed. Kira jumped to her feet. M remained seated, still leaning forward with elbows on knees, but she lifted her face from her hands. They glanced at each other. The door chimed again.

"Enter," M instructed the computer.

Damar. He stood still outside the open door. M motioned for him to come in. The door slid closed behind him.

"How are you, Doctor?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"The hospital has been cleaned up, you should be able to reopen it tomorrow," he informed her. Turning to Kira he said, "We've completed our investigation. It looks like the fire source that Dr. Maturin was using to test some samples was accidentally knocked over onto some cloth." He looked at M. "Is that correct, Doctor?"

She raised her eyebrows and nodded.

"Thank you for seeing her home, Major. You're needed back in ops, now."

Kira didn't move, reluctant to leave M alone with him.

"You may go now, Major," Damar pressed.

She turned to M, opening her mouth to speak.

"Leave, now, Major," he commanded.

Kira's instincts told her she would not win this battle, and if she tried it could aggravate Damar and put M at greater risk. The best option was to leave, she decided, then send Odo to monitor the situation from as close as he get.

"I'm leaving," she said. She turned to M, and in a stronger voice said pointedly, "I will come and check on you later."

They both expected Damar to protest, but he did not. Instead, he stood stoically, arms crossed, as Kira exited the quarters.

He took a couple of aloof steps towards M, which made her bristle. She did not think he would hurt her, but she was far from certain.

"Doctor," he began, "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

She hesitated a moment. She knew he knew, there was no sense deflecting or pretending. So she cut to the chase.

"Yes," she began tentatively, then found her voice. "The same thing I've been TRYING to tell my escorts for the past week. I'm running out of medical supplies. I CANNOT treat my patients properly. I NEED to go to the cargo stores - or someone must to go for me."

Damar held out his hand, a gesture meant to calm her. He spoke slowly and softly. "Doctor Maturin, I... I understand. Tell me what you need."

M blinked. She blinked again, then bent and grabbed the pad up from the sofa table and handed it to him. Damar read the supply list it contained, scowling and exhaling heavily, shocked by what he read and impressed that she'd been able to continue at all without these items.

She interpreted his reaction as a precursor to resistance. "I assure you, it's all quite necessary," she exclaimed, self-possessed and forthright.

He immediately realized her misinterpretation and responded. "Of course, Doctor." He paused, looked again at the pad in his hand, then looked up at M and smiled "I will see that you get everything on this list."

"Thank you," she said, a bit stunned. It seemed to easy. She had anticipated having to do some pleading.

"Is there anything else you need?" Damar asked.

M did not hesitate: "A cheeseburger. Sweet potato fries. And a Cherry Coke."

"Uh... Cherry… Co-"

"From Quark's. Just tell him I'd like my usual. He'll know what to send." She couldn't tell if this was pushing things too far.

He paused, looking down at the pad again, silent.

"I'm SICK of replicator food!" M protested.

"You will get everything you've requested," he assured her. He looked up from the pad. "Doctor... Next time, come directly to me."

"HOW?!" she practically shouted. Damar was taken aback. She softened: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... This has all been very frustrating. I would gladly come to you, and I appreciate it, but how exactly CAN I come to you? They don't let me talk to anyone, I can't go anywhere - " He knew she was referring to her Cardassian escorts.

He held his hand up and interjected. "I will find you, then, everyday. Or, I will send someone who will report directly back to me. Will that do?"

"Yes, thank you."

He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded and turned to leave. The door opened. She saw her escorts had returned to their post.

"Damar. Thank you."

He nodded again without turning back towards her, then headed out. The door closed behind him.

An hour later Quark arrived with a serving cart, and was allowed to enter her quarters.

"I hope you're hungry," he said, lifting the plate covers. "I know you've got a big appetite for such a small female, but I think even you might find this a challenge."

It was all there: Cheeseburger, fries, Cherry Coke. Plus a bowl of fruit, a small cake, a carton of milk, some hard-boiled eggs and sliced Speck, a cheese wheel, a massive pumpernickel, and a 12-pack of more Cherry Coke bottles. And there were three books on the cart. Cardassian. She would need the computer translate for her.

"Don't worry, it's all fresh. It will keep for days in your refrigerator," Quark assured her.

The next morning, all the medical supplies on her list arrived at the hospital.

Quark brought her dinner the next night, and every night for the next two weeks. She sent a couple of supply requests to Damar through Quark, and these were promptly filled. M also gave Quark a handful of her own books for Damar - She hoped Damar would infer the intent of this gesture: Gratitude, and perhaps something approximating mutual respect (something she inferred from his own book-sharing gesture). At the very least, she could no longer despise him for the Cardassian he was. At best, she had cultivated a strong ally.

That last night, Damar collected her from the hospital himself at the end of her shift. They walked side-by-side along the promenade, silent, alone. Not awkward, however. Her other escorts had disappeared shortly after leaving the hospital. She was grateful for this bit of reprieve.

M veered off into a shop, a dress having caught her eye. But the dress was a rouse; She was really testing her boundaries with Damar. She was pleased that he stood quietly by and let her shop.

When they reached Quark's, he took M by the arm gently and guided her into the bar.

"What -?"

He ignored her.

They sat down together at a table in the back corner of the bar. Damar caught Quark's eye from a distance. Quark nodded, then disappeared into the kitchen.

"Thank you for the books," Damar said without looking at her.

What's going on? M didn't care. It was nice to be out in public again, and Damar's presence was benign. "I thought the one had a lot of parallels to one of your books," she offered.

"Harvest Blood," he concurred, nodding his head. "A universal narrative that translates well into any language and context."

Ok, so she was now discussing literature with Damar.

Sometime later, she wasn't sure how much time had past, Quark arrived with her food. Their conversation broke momentarily, and M became cognizant of her smile and good mood. She had actually been laughing. With Damar.

She looked at him. He was smiling, too. It made him look less... grey. He took a deep breath, then started talking again. Then reached over and took a couple of fries off her plate. M froze. Food sharing had serious social connotations among humans. Did it have the same meaning for Cardassians? Her brow knit together as she considered the situation.

Damar took another handful of fries.

"Have you not had dinner?" she asked.

"No. I'm still on duty," he said.

"But, you're eating - " M looked at him quizzically. He mimicked her expression. "Never mind. Here," she cut her cheeseburger in half and shared it with him.

"Delicious! What type of animal flesh is it?" he asked.

M couldn't help herself, she laughed and shook her head at him. They eased back into conversation, and shared dessert when it arrived. When they had finished eating, he rose from the table to go. "Well, good evening, Doctor."

"Um… Damar?"

He chuckled. Her confusion, though anticipated, still amused him. "No more escorts. As of 10 minutes ago, you're a free woman again. Dukat agreed to lift your restrictions." Damar was pleased to be the one giving her this news.

"Oh! Well… that's GREAT! Thank you!" She stood up and walked beside him. When they reached the promenade, she turned to him. "Damar, did you...?"

He shrugged his shoulders. He stopped and turned to her. She did the same.

"I don't think you need an escort back to your quarters tonight."

"No," she agreed, grinning up at him.

"So, good night, then, Doctor. I'm needed in ops."

M watched him climb the stairs to the upper promenade, then disappear into the crowd. She spent the next two hours meandering through the shops, and went back to Quark's for a drink. Later, she returned to her quarters and stayed up later than usual, re-reading Harvest Blood.


	6. The Case for Being More Careful

"Will someone PLEASE get her out of my sight!" Dukat barked as he forcefully patted his chest with a handful of napkins, trying to wick away the spill.

M, Kira and Odo had been summoned to the conference room for an evening of political hob-knobbing with representatives from a number of worlds the Cardassians and the Dominion were courting. Dukat was particularly keen to demonstrate his progress in improving relations with the Bjorans, and the continued well-being of the races who remained on DS9 after Star Fleet's retreat. Smoke and mirrors, in other words. M especially resented being pressed into service this way so soon after Dukat had reinstated her relative freedom on the station.

Kanar, among other alcoholic beverages, had been flowing freely all night, which, at the very least, seemed to make time pass a bit faster for M and Kira as their social graces were put to the test. The façade reminded M of her mother's efforts at obscuring the truth when communicating with their extended family. Mother had to make everything sound just a little more impressive than it was in reality, and M and her siblings had to keep quiet, smile and play along - or else.

M was never good at playing along for her mother, and she would not for Dukat now.

As they worked the room, M accomplished two things with each of the guests: Impressing them with her 'rare beauty and intelligence', and insulting them with such skill that they didn't realize until sometime after she had moved on (and even then, they were not quite certain whether or not they had been insulted).

Kira was livid. The Doctor was a civilian and had never really grasped how precarious the situation was on DS9 from a political and military standpoint. She winked and smiled in return each time Kira shot her a nasty glance. M could be so reckless sometimes.

One of those times came about 90 minutes into the gathering. After having charmed and subversively insulted every dignitary in the room, M quietly attached herself to the small group listening to Dukat expound about his virtue regarding something or other. By then, M had consumed far too much kanar. Kira stood a few feet away, speaking to Odo but attuned to Dukat. She was mortified when M challenged Dukat's interpretation of this something or other.

"I didn't realize YOU were an expert on Cardassians history, Doctor Maturin," Dukat mocked.

"You don't have to be an expert on anything to recognise a lapse in morality and decency, or to suspect when the truth is being subverted," M said, smugly.

Dukat's eyes narrowed.

M took another sip of kanar, sputtered as the strong liquid hit the back of her throat, then finished her thought: "You really just need to consider the source."

Kira closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

"Well, I think YOU'VE had quite enough to drink, Doctor," Dukat hissed through gritted teeth. "You really ought to be leaving now."

He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around towards the door. In the process, her drink spilled all over Dukat's chest. He suppressed the full force of his rage, tempered by the presence of the dignitaries. But he roared: "Someone get her out of here, NOW!"

Kira made a move towards M. "Come on," she said quietly.

"NOT you," Dukat growled. A massive grin slid across his face, and with a chortle he said "YOU must stay and entertain our guests!" stretching his arms out wide in front of himself, gesturing to the whole room, addressing everyone and no one in particular.

"I'll take her to her quarters," Damar intervened, edging past Kira and grabbing M by the arm.

"Hey!" Kira said, reacting to being pushed aside. But she bit back the other words of protest dancing on her tongue. Much to her distaste, she had a growing awareness that something was developing between M and Damar. She wasn't certain what or how deep it went, but she had observed a few exchanges that suggested some degree of intimacy. Kira's anxiety diminished at the same time her repulsion grew, but she knew M would be safer out there with Damar rather than in here with Dukat.

Relieved to be released from social servitude, but wanting to maintain the show for Dukat's sake, she feigned mild resistance as Damar guided her out of the conference room. Upon reaching the turbolift across the busy quad, he released her. They rode down in silence, and remained silent after disembarking on the habitat ring.

Once alone in the corridor leading to M's quarters, Damar broke their silence. "You need to be more careful," he cautioned.

She dismissed him with a shake of her head, then flounced ahead. "Why? I have YOU to protect me!" she said to him cheekily over her shoulder.

Damar caught up and stopped her, pulling her around to face him. "There are things I can't protect you from," he said sternly.

"I know," she said after a tense moment. She was serious now, too. M took his hand gently. He looked down, dropped her hand then continued down the corridor leaving her behind.

She followed and slid in front of him when he stopped outside the door to her quarters.

"Good night," she said petulantly, then disappeared inside.

Her door chimed. She ignored it. It chimed again. She went closer and the door slid open. Damar was standing, leaning with his forearm raised against the door frame.

"What?" she asked softly, resigned and feeling sheepish for her insolence.

"You need to be more careful," he repeated. A moment later she was in his arms. He was kissing her deeply, pressing her to his chest. It last only a moment, then he pulled away.

Damar was breathing heavily. M could tell it was nerves, not lust. She noticed the scales on his neck and shoulders had flushed a soft indigo.

"I - I should get back. Dukat will be looking for me."

"You can stay tonight," she whispered, stepping closer to him.

He reached out and clasped her hands together in his. He pulled her to him, drew her hands up and kissed her fingers. "No."

"Damar -"

"I want to, Doctor. I do. But... you've had a lot to drink. So, I'm not certain it's what you really want." He kissed her fingers again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kissed you."

She brushed her thumb across his lips. "You're not the man I thought you were."

He grinned suddenly. M smiled back, laughing, realizing how that must have sounded.

"You should get some sleep," he gently touched his forehead to hers.

"It is what I want," she whispered.

"Then there will be another time," he promised, backing her into her quarters. "Good night, Doctor."

"Ok," she acquiesced.

"I will see you tomorrow," he kissed her forehead, then slowly drew away from her, backing out into the corridor.

"Ok," she repeated, under her breath.

The door closed.

M knew she would not be able to sleep.


	7. Bittersweet Surrender

The klaxon whined. Star Fleet was at their doorstep. Terok Nor was lost for a second time.

"Abandon the station!" Dukat reluctantly ordered. "All of you, go! Now!"

Damar sent his cohort out of ops with specific logistical orders to carry out en route to the docking bays.

Dukat took a detour to find his daughter, Ziyal.

Damar had his own target.

The promenade was in chaos. Quark had shuttered the bar. Garak was standing outside his closed shop, defending its glass windows.

The hospital was being looted. Damar burst in, chasing away his junior comrades, admonishing them for wasting time collecting supplies they had plenty of on their ships. One of the soldiers challenged him, and Damar swiftly shut him up with the accusation of stealing narcotics.

Damar found M safe in the adjacent lab space. He took her hand and led her into one of the interior treatment rooms. The door closed behind them.

He was on her immediately. M collapsed into the embrace, stretching up to kiss him. Damar lifted her against the wall. He made a series of quick maneuvers, and then... they were together. They lost themselves in each other. It was fast and intense. New words of love and devotion whispered between them, and promises they both hoped the great game would allow them to keep.

Afterwards, they stood apart, redressing. Damar listened for movement outside, but all was clear.

Turning to M, he said, "That was not how I imagined our first time would be."

"It was better." She went to him and slipped her arms around his neck. He held her tightly to him.

"I love you, Emmeline," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, too, Corat," she offered back.

Using each other's first names for the first time felt especially intimate. They lingered in the embrace.

"I don't know when I will see you again -" A noise outside the room drew Damar's attention. "I need to go."

They kissed deeply, a final good-bye. "Be careful," she said.

More noise outside.

"Computer, lights." Damar picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. He grabbed some medkits off the shelf in the lab on his way out.

A couple of Cardassians soldiers were in the hospital's great room outside, searching for more medical supplies.

She ran after him. "Here, you might as well take them all," she said, feigning disgust and making a show of tucking more medkits into Damar's pack. She turned to the other soldiers and admonished, "There's nothing left! You're wasting your time."

"We must go," Damar commanded the soldiers. "Get to the docking bays. Get on the first ship you find that has room, it doesn't matter which."

"Aye, sir," each of the soldiers said then left the hospital.

Damar made his way out, too, looking back over his shoulder, hoping she was following.

She did follow, to the end of the alcove. He took a few steps out onto the promenade, then turned to her and lingered for a moment, their eyes locked. No words would come.

Damar strode slowly backwards, turning away after a handful of steps, leaving her. When he reached the turbolift across the promenade he turned and found her for one final look.

M touched her fingers to her lips. He did the same, then backed onto the lift. He held her gaze until the door cut them off.

He was gone.


	8. Comfort, Joy & the Cardassian Kama Sutra

Leaving the transporter pad, Damar walked passed a waiting M without noticing her. She looked quizzically at Kira who shook her head grimly and followed Damar onto the bridge.

Garak put a hand on M's shoulder and explained in a gentle voice, "We received word that the Jem H'dar assassinated his son and ex-wife."

M's eyes started to tear. She slowly walked over to where Damar was seated at the helm. Placing a hand on his arm, she squeezed firmly, comfortingly. He stopped tapping the console for a moment, then resumed, doing nothing else in acknowledgement. She left him to be alone with his grief and retreated to the Cardassian shuttle's makeshift medical bay. They towed the stolen Jem H'dar ship, heading back to DS9 where O'Brien and his corps of engineers would learn the inner workings of the Dominion's new weapon and figure out how Star Fleet ships could defeat it.

Later, M was up late reading when the door to her quarters chimed.

"Enter," she instructed the computer.

Damar silently walked over and sat beside her on the sofa, keeping his head down. His eyes were puffy, and his skin was a paler grey than usual. His movements were slow and hesitant.

He leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. M leaned over, put her arm around his shoulders and kissed his head.

"I didn't kill Ziyal," he revealed in a broken voice. "That was Dukat. But he killed her because he believed she was responsible for something that I had done. So... I did kill her, just the same. And I killed them... My son. They died because of my actions." He was too overcome to continue speaking. He turned now into her embrace, tucking his face into her shoulder. She held him as he wept. When he had recovered somewhat, she pushed him away from her gently and looked him in the eye.

"You are NOT responsible," she assured him. He looked away. She put her hand on his chin, pulled him to her and kissed him deeply. With her free hand, she took his hand and pulled it to her breast. "And you're not alone," she whispered to him.

"Emmeline..." Damar hesitated. "I did not come her seeking this."

"I know. But I think this is what you need, and I care for you. So, I want to give you what you need." She stood and held her hand out to him. He took her hand, and she led him to her bedroom.

That night was for him... simple, close and comforting. It did not last long.

The next morning was for her...

She awoke to him touching her intimately, and she was already aroused. They were laying on their sides in bed, he was holding her from behind, pressing the length of his body against her. She could feel he was also aroused.

"Let me make love to you?" It was a whispered question, asked as his fingers found a new spot and her body responded. "Yes," she said, her breath fluttering.

He moved his fingers away, making her whimper and almost start crying. He smiled, enjoying this foreplay and anticipating the enjoyment to come. Kissing her neck, he said softly, "As you know, doctor, Cardassians are experts in the area of... motivational techniques." He moved his fingers back to the spot, being deliberately gentle. Her body caught fire and she sucked in her breath. He quickly continued, "This includes encyclopedic knowledge about physical pleasure. Now, when used correctly, pleasure can be an effective tool for dealing with our enemies." He found her mouth and kissed her deeply, muffling another whimper. "HOWEVER, with those we love, we use our knowledge to give our partner the most intense ecstasy." He kissed her neck, sucking gently and lingering. "My dear doctor... WE are not enemies." She shook her head no, agreeing. She felt his breath hot on her ear. "Do you trust me?" he whispered. Without hesitating she nodded yes, so overcome by that point that she could not speak.

He began. At several points, he stopped momentarily to make sure she was ok, to explain what was next and to instruct her as needed. With her nodding permission each time, he would take her to the next level.

Afterwards, she slept for hours in his arms, exhausted. When she woke, she was alone in bed. She called to him, and he quickly came back into the bedroom, carrying a drink for her. She grabbed the cup - it was cold, sweet water. She gulped it down. He sat beside her, stroking her long hair. "You're ok?" he asked. She laughed softly and shook her head yes; Their eyes met, her smiled deepend, and she sheepishly looked away. "You humans have so many inhibitions!" He smiled and took the empty cup from her, then leaned in and kissed her, her lips still wet with water. In a whisper, he promised even more.

"There are... DEVICES... that can enhance the pleasure of these techniques. I can replicate them once we return to DS9. If you'd like to try." He offered.

No longer exhausted, and immediately aroused by this prospect - (how could the ecstasy he'd given her possibly be enhanced?) - she grabbed him and pushed him down onto his back on the bed, then pulled herself astride him. Leaning in to kiss him hard on the mouth, she said "Yes, my love," under her breath. And he exhausted her again.

She was his.


	9. Alket: Every Father & Child Reunion

Refugee transports had been arriving almost non-stop since the Dominion's final retaliation - a dark matter bomb detonated in the planet's core - had obliterated Cardassia from existence. DS9 was brimming, Sisko was having difficulty finding space to accommodate them all. Even the holosuites in Quark's had been pressed into service as makeshift dormitories. Damar was been occupied helping DS9 administration manage this influx, and was working with the few surviving Cardassian military and political leaders to establish a provisional government whose sole purpose would be negotiating resettlement for its now-homeless people. Damar was not homeless, however. He had returned to DS9 in M's reassuring arms, and to her safe bed. He had negotiated a new home for himself long before Cardassia was lost.

Two days ago, an obscure communication from a distance listening post relayed a list of survivors en route to DS9 in a repurposed Jem H'dar shuttle. The name 'Alket' was among those listed. Damar had desperately tried to obtain more information, wanting to confirm the identity. Alket was not a common name among Cardassians.

"Do you know the boy's age?" No one was able to provide an answer, and communications were cutting in and out.

After two days of frustrated waiting, Damar went to the docking bay to meet the ship when it arrived. He had been on edge, and had even barked at M that morning (apologizing immediately afterwards.). He shifted nervously on his feet as the refugees began to disembark. It had been more than four years - Would he recognize the boy? (IF it actually was him.)

"Would he recognize me?" Damar thought to himself.

A sting of guilt still plagued him. He had made no effort to search for his son after receiving word of the assassination. He had simply accepted the news, not considering it may be propaganda intended to break him, the leader of the Cardassian Liberation Front. Surely it was penance, not just for his recent actions, but also for his continued failure as a husband and father. Feeling that he deserved punishment for these failures made it easy for Damar accept the news without taking steps to confirm it.

Suddenly, he saw a young man, standing still amidst the moving crowd, staring at him. Damar returned the stare - The minute that passed felt like centuries. Then Damar walked purposefully towards him. The boy flew the rest of the distance into Damar's arms. They embraced, not speaking (not needing to), for much longer than a minute.

When most of the crowd had dispersed from the bay, they looked each other face-to-face. Damar wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, then kissed the boy's forehead.

"Alket... Son... I -"

"Father," the boy interjected. "I'm proud of you."

Damar began weeping uncontrollably, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around the boy.

They spent most of the afternoon at Quark's, reconciling by sharing of stories. Alket and his mother had been discovered in hiding. The Jem H'dar assassinated his mother, but Alket managed to escape. He stayed safe, moving from place to place regularly with the help of an underground Cardassian trade network, and by concealing his identity. Once the war ended, he hopped a number of trading vessels until he found a community of refugees preparing to seek resettlement outside the Cardassian system, with DS9 planned as their first stop. He had heard Damar had survived, and guessed his father may be on DS9 with Cardassia's remaining leadership.

Damar drank more than was usual for him, and let the boy have some kanar, too. A father's privilege - They were celebrating. This is how M found them.

Damar had asked her to come, thinking a public introduction might be easier for them all. He had also though he may need her there for support, anticipating a much different reunion than was occurring now. Or, that he would need her comfort if the Alket on the ship turned out not to be his son.

She did not interrupt them. Things looked to be going well, and she wanted to give them this time to be alone together as father and son. She would become part of this small family soon enough.

She watched them for awhile, then returned to her quarters and finished preparing the second bedroom for Alket. What do Cardassian teenagers like? She replicated some toy star ships, an old-style Earth galleon, and some articulated models of horses and dinosaurs, and loaded a pad up with games. The day before, Garak had helped her pick out some clothing for the boy, and these were now hanging in the closet, with the exception of one finely made black tunic and silver vest laid neatly across the bed. "This style is... WAS all the rage on Cardassia," Garak had promised.

Several hours later, Damar and Alket arrived home to her quarters. M was unusually nervous. A tipsy Damar grabbed her, laughing warmly, and kissed her.

"I thought you would join us. We missed you! We brought you dessert." He held up a small container, then placed it on the nearby dining table. Her silence alerted him to her apprehension. Weaving his arm around hers, he whisper to her "Come," he kissed her ear, "This is my son. Alket, this is Emmeline."

M smiled and tentatively reach out to to boy, intending a handshake.

Alket laughed softly, then took the few steps that were between them and threw his arms around her. He was already almost as tall as Damar.

"Thank you for taking care of my father. Thank you for giving us a home."

* * *

Damar and M had made love every day since Cardassia's obliteration; he desperately needed the comfort and connection. But tonight, he fell asleep quickly and peacefully, needing only to hold her close wrapped in his arms as he slept.


	10. Epilogue: What We Choose to Keep With Us

Earth. It had been decided. The planet had a long history of multiculturalism and resiliency in integrating new races and cultures. For this reason, Earth was typically the first of the Federation's members to extend assistance to those in need, which invariably meant refugees from systems throughout the quadrant. This policy had transformed the planet into a terrestrial nirvana with rich cultural and genetic diversity, and a population that continuously negotiated a shared culture of peace, respect and acceptance as a collective ideal. As Federation citizens now, Cardassians could choose any Federation plant for resettlement, though Earth was the most popular (and the most strategic) choice for a people who had previously been one of the most hated powers in the quadrant.

Earth was M's home planet, she had grown up in Canada, the country which, during the 21st century prior to contact with other worlds, had through example had helped lead Earth towards its epistemic rebirth. M had been born in Victoria, British Columbia, and it is this island (much larger now after the dramatic drop in sea level between 2340 and 2385) that she persuaded Damar to consider for their new home. They had secured a large farm in the island's arid region, the land was perfect for replanting the crop samples being transferred to Earth from Cardassia's now isolated colonies. It had been Garak's commercial acumen and genius at negotiation that had enabled this initiative; Garak foresaw both the demand for Cardassian products on Earth and the need for familiar items to help his people transition to their new home, and he knew the right people to convince to make it happen. He, Damar and M partnered in the purchase of the farm, and had invited several refugee families to join them as tenant farmers to help establish growth and supply. Garak had also made a fortune in manufactured goods, including Cardassian fashion, first establishing business on Earth and then expanding trade throughout the quadrant reaching wherever his people had remained or resettled. Quark would have been green with envy!

M had taken a position with the World Health Organization, an international public health agency that had its roots in 20th century Earth but had since expanded its jurisdiction to encompass all Federation worlds. This meant she was away working off-world more frequently than Damar wished, but he was supportive of the important work she was doing.

Both Damar and Garak had maintained leadership roles as Cardassian representatives appointed to both Earth's senate and the Federation government, with Garak also chairing the Federation's Cardassian caucus. Star Fleet engaged Damar as a consultant regularly to assist with transitioning Cardassian military personnel into Star Fleet. He rarely travelled outside the Earth system, which had come as a surprising relief to him (and to M).

M never stopped appreciating what a remarkably good statesman her husband had become. Without Damar's vision, leadership and diplomacy, Cardassian resettlement throughout the quadrant would not have been so peaceful. And as an Earth senator, he had immediately embraced his responsibilities in contributing to the well-being of his new home, spearheading some of the most ambitious and innovative civic initiatives in recent history to the collective benefit of the planet's diverse citizenry. "Who would have imagined," she sometimes thought to herself, remembering the Cardassian thug he had seemed at times. But who can guess who will rise and who will fall when the real test comes. Damar was a survivor. He had become a great man.

Damar's son, Alket, had eagerly joined Star Fleet as soon as his application was accepted, with advanced placement at the academy that meant he began his training on board a star ship rather than on campus. Alket felt fortunate to be stationed on the USS Lovell with Nog.

* * *

Damar hummed the old Earth opera "Carmen" as he prepared dinner.

"ba da Da, DA Da bum bum... Ouch!" he yelped as the bacon spit from the pan.

He heard footsteps outside, then a door opening on the other side of the house. Then the patter of running.

"DADDY!" The girl jumped into his waiting arms.

"Devnet! I missed you ALL DAY!" He lifted her to sit atop the kitchen island. "How was your friend's birthday party?"

"GOOD!" she responded cheerfully. He handed her a banana and she smiled as though it was a Christmas present from Santa himself.

She was an ugly child, really, with wild black hair, pinkish-grey skin, budding facial ridges, enormous blue eyes... and those teeth! But Damar never saw it. The girl was always smiling. And she was as clever and strong-willed as her mother. He patted her head, laughing, then turned and slid an arm around his wife, who had just come into the room.

"Garak is looking for you," M said, grabbing a slice of onion off the cutting board. "He stopped us at the shop on our way in."

"Ok. I should go and find him. He wasn't happy with our last batch of kanar. I think he's worried about stock levels for supplying our distributors, not to mention our shop. Can you finish here?"

"Yep."

He kissed his wife. The little girl covered her eyes and giggled.

M watched her husband walking off, taking his usual route between two rows of vines, stopping on occasion to inspect the grapes. They were expecting Alket for dinner; he was on Earth for a couple of weeks while the Lovell was undergoing some retrofitting. She should send him a message and suggest he beam to their shop first and help his father and Garak (subtext: share a bottle of kanar with them before dinner).

She continued chopping vegetables, ones they had grown on their own land. Her daughter sat in Damar's reading chair next to the fireplace with a picture book about rabbits.


End file.
